WHAT THE SHEET HID.
Slippery Dick was puzzled as well as frightened. He knew Gen. Evan by
sight, and his terror lost some of its wildness; the general was not
likely to be out upon a lynching expedition. But for what was he wanted?
He could not protest until he knew that, and in his past were many dark
deeds, for which somebody was wanted. So he was silent.
His attention was chiefly directed to Edward; he could not account for
him, nor could he remember to have seen him. Royson had long since
trained him to silence; most men convict themselves while under arrest.
Evan stood in deep thought, but presently he prepared for action.
"What is your name, boy?" The negro answered promptly:
"Dick, sah."
"Dick who?"
"Just Dick, sah."
"Your other name?"
"Slippery Dick." The general was interested instantly.
"Oh, Slippery Dick." The career of the notorious negro was partially
known to him. Dick had been the reporter's friend for many years and in
dull times more than the truth had been told of Slippery Dick. "Well,
this begins to look probable, Edward; I begin to think you may be
right."
"I am not mistaken, general. If there is a mistake, it is not mine."
"What dey want me for, Marse Evan? I ain't done nothin'."
"A house has been broken into, Dick, and you are the man who did it."
"Who, me? Fo' Gawd, Marse Evan, I ain't broke inter no man's house. It
warn't me--no sah, no sah."
"We will see about that. Now I will give you your choice, Dick; you can
go with me, Gen. Evan and I will protect you. If the person who accuses
you says you are innocent I will turn you loose; if you are not willing
to go there I will take you to jail; but, willing or unwilling, if you
make a motion to escape, I will put a bullet through you before you can
take three steps."
"I'll go with you, Marse Evan; I ain't de man. I'll go whar you want me
to go."
"Get your dogs together and take the road to town. I will show you when
we get there." They went with him to where his dogs, great and small,
were loudly baying at the root of a small persimmon tree. Dick looked up
wistfully.
"Marse Evan, deir he sots; you don't spect me ter leave dat possum up
dere?" The old man laughed silently.
"The ruling passion strong in death," he quoted to Edward, and then
sternly to Dick: "Get him and be quick about it." A moment more and they
were on the way to the horses.
"I had an object," said Evan, "in permitting this. As we pass through
the city we present the appearance of a hunting party. Turn up your coat
collar and turn down your hat to avoid the possibility of recognition."
They reached the city, passed through the deserted streets, the negro
carrying his 'possum and surrounded by the dogs preceding the riders,
and, without attracting more than the careless notice of a policeman or
two, they reached the limits beyond.
Still Dick was not suspicious; the road was his own way home; but when
finally he was ordered to turn up the long route to Ilexhurst, he
stopped. This was anticipated; the general spurted his horse almost
against him.
"Go on!" he said, sternly, "or by the Eternal you are a dead man!
Edward, if he makes a break, you have the ex----"
"Marse Evan, you said breakin' in 'er house." Dick still hesitated.
"I did; but it was the house of the dead."
The 'possum came suddenly to the ground, and away went Dick into an open
field, the expectation of a bullet lending speed to his legs. But he was
not in the slightest danger from bullets; he was the last man, almost,
that either of his captors would have slain, nor was it necessary. The
great roan came thundering upon him; he lifted his arm to ward off the
expected blow and looked up terrified. The next instant a hand was on
his coat collar, and he was lifted off his feet. Dragging his prisoner
into the road, Evan held his pistol over his wet forehead, while, with
the rein, Edward lashed his elbows behind his back. The dogs were
fighting over the remains of the unfortunate 'possum. They left them
there.
The three men arrived at Ilexhurst thoroughly tired; the white men more
so than the negro. Tying their animals, Edward led the way around to the
glass-room, where a light was burning, but to his disappointment on
entering he found no occupant. Slippery Dick was placed in a chair and
the door locked. Evan stood guard over him, while Edward searched the
house. The wing-room was dark and Gerald was not to be found. From the
door of the professor's room came the cadenced breathing of a profound
sleeper. Returning, Edward communicated these facts to his companion.
They discussed the situation.
Evan, oppressed by the memory of his last two visits to these scenes,
was silent and distrait. The eyes of the negro were moving restlessly
from point to point, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The
scene, the hour, the situation and the memory of that shriveled face in
its coffin all combined to reduce Dick to a state of abject terror. Had
he not been tied he would have plunged through the glass into the night;
the pistol in the hands of the old man standing over him would have been
forgotten.
What was to be done? Edward went into the wing-room and lighted the
lamps preparatory to making better arrangements for all parties.
Suddenly his eyes fell upon the lounge. Extended upon it was a form
outlined through a sheet that covered it from head to foot. So still, so
immovable and breathless it seemed, he drew back in horror. An
indefinable fear seized him. White, with unexpressed horror, he stood in
the door of the glass-room and beckoned to the general. The silence of
his appearance, the inexpressible terror that shone in his face and
manner, sent a thrill to the old man's heart and set the negro
trembling.
Driving the negro before him, Evan entered. At sight of the covered form
Dick made a violent effort to break away, but, with nerves now at their
highest tension and muscles drawn responsive, the general successfully
resisted. Enraged at last he stilled his captive by a savage blow with
his weapon.
Edward now approached the apparition and lifted the cloth. Prepared as
he was for the worst, he could not restrain the cry of horror that rose
to his lips. Before him was the face of Gerald, white with the hue of
death, the long lashes drooped over half-closed eyes, the black hair
drawn back from the white forehead and clustering about his neck and
shoulders. He fell almost fainting against the outstretched arm of his
friend, who, pale and shocked, stood with eyes riveted upon the fatal
beauty of the dead face.
It was but an instant; then the general was jerked with irresistible
force and fell backward into the room, Edward going nearly prostrate
over him. There was the sound of shattered glass and the negro was gone.
Stunned and hurt, the old man rose to his feet and rushed to the
glass-room. Then a pain seized him; he drew his bruised limb from the
floor and caught the lintel.
"Stop that man! Stop that man!" he said in a stentorian voice; "he is
your only witness now!" Edward looked into his face a moment and
comprehended. For the third time that night he plunged into the darkness
after Slippery Dick. But where? Carlo was telling! Down the hill his
shrill voice was breaking the night. Abandoned by the negro's dogs
accustomed to seek their home and that not far away, he had followed the
master's footsteps with unerring instinct and whined about the glass
door. The bursting glass, the fleeing form of a strange negro, were
enough for his excitable nature; he gave voice and took the trail.
The desperate effort of the negro might have succeeded, but the human
arms were made for many things; when a man stumbles he needs them in the
air and overhead or extended. Slippery Dick went down with a crash in a
mass of blackberry bushes, and when Edward reached him he was kicking
wildly at the excited puppy, prevented from rising by his efforts and
his bonds. The excited and enraged white man dragged him out of the
bushes by his collar and brought reason to her throne by savage kicks.
The prisoner gave up and begged for mercy.
He was marched back, all breathless, to the general, who had limped to
the gate to meet him.
Edward was now excited beyond control; he forced the prisoner, shivering
with horror, into the presence of the corpse, and with the axe in hand
confronted him.
"You infamous villain!" he cried; "tell me here, in the presence of my
dead friend, who it was that put you up to opening the grave of Rita
Morgan and breaking her skull, or I will brain you! You have ten seconds
to speak!" He meant it, and the axe flashed in the air. Gen. Evan caught
the upraised arm.
"Softly, softly, Edward; this won't do; this won't do! You defeat your
own purpose!" It was timely; the blow might have descended, for the
reckless man was in earnest, and the negro was by this time dumb.
"Dick," said the general, "I promised to protect you on conditions, and
I will. But you have done this gentleman an injury and endangered his
life. You opened Rita Morgan's grave and broke her skull--an act for
which the law has no adequate punishment; but my young friend here is
desperate. You can save yourself but I cannot save you except over my
dead body. If you refuse I will stand aside, and when I do you are a
dead man." He was during this hurried speech still struggling with the
young man.
"I'll tell, Marse Evan! Hold 'im. I'll tell!"
"Who, then?" said Edward, white with his passion; "who was the infamous
villain that paid you for the deed?"
"Mr. Royson, Mr. Royson, he hired me." The men looked at each other. A
revulsion came over Edward; a horror, a hatred of the human race, of
anything that bore the shape of man--but no; the kind, sad face of the
old gentleman was beaming in triumph upon him.
And then from somewhere into the scene came the half-dressed form of
Virdow, his face careworn and weary, amazed and alarmed.
Virdow wrote the confession in all its details, and the general
witnessed the rude cross made by the trembling hand of the negro. And
then they stood sorrowful and silent before the still, dead face of
Gerald Morgan!